


Three Trolls Bake a Pie

by blacksmith_femme



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Gen, Thanksgiving, Vast Error - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:08:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21601954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blacksmith_femme/pseuds/blacksmith_femme
Summary: Three trolls bake a pie, and it's cute, and nobody hurts for a little while.
Relationships: Albion Shukra/Tazsia Poemme, Sovara Amalie/Albion Shukra
Kudos: 17





	Three Trolls Bake a Pie

Sovara Amalie’s hive is fuller than it’s been for as long as she can remember, and  _ wow _ is it cold. Even though the heating system is turned as high as it will go, she is absolutely shivering under two big sweaters. The other two trolls standing in her kitchen seem unfazed, though. Albion is washing some dishes, telling some story about a friend of a friend that the other two are half-listening to - if she feels the cold, she isn’t letting on. Taz is as stoic as ever, listening to Albion gossip with her arms crossed. As Sova watches, though, a corner of Taz’s mouth rises, and a rare smile spreads across her face. Sova smiles a little to herself, thinking that maybe Taz isn’t quite as scary as she seems, but that thought leaves her as quickly as it came when the purpleblood looks away from her moirail and directly at Sova, her expression stony once more. Startled, Sova shrinks back and scurries into her pantry, mumbling an excuse about needing to grab another ingredient for the recipe. 

Once away from the eyes of the other two, she sighs. Albion had been enthusiastic about the three of them meeting up on Gratitude Day “to bake a spicegourd pie and get to know each other,” as she put it, but so far, Taz is remaining as intimidating as she is tall. For a second, a flicker of doubt crosses Sova’s mind - what in the world can Albion possibly see in that girl? - but she shakes her head, banishing the thought. If she can’t trust her own matesprit, what kind of person is she?

Breaking her out of her reverie, Albion pops her head into the pantry. “Everything alright?,” she inquires. 

“Yeah! Just… taking care of some… stuff.” Sova cringes - she isn’t very good at lying to anyone, especially her matesprit.

Seeing right through the fib, Albion shakes her head slightly. “Sova, she really isn’t that bad. She puts on a scary act to frighten people away, but she’s very sweet underneath it all.”

“If it’s an act, she sure fooled me,” Sovara says quietly. “But… I love you, and I trust you, so I’ll give her a chance.”

Albion beams and gives Sova a small kiss on the cheek. “She won’t let you down. You two have more in common than you know…”

Before Sova can ask what that's supposed to mean, her matesprit has taken her by the hand and led her back out into the kitchen. "So," Albion continues in a slightly too cheerful voice, "now that we've gotten all the ingredients together, the fun part can begin!"  In short order, it's decided (mostly by Albion) that she and Taz will make the pie filling, while Sova will prepare the crust.

As Albion gathers some spices, Taz looks at the printed-out recipe again. With a puzzled look on her face, she looks over at Sova and asks "So, what even is a spicegourd, anyway?"

Forgetting how intimidated she is for a second, Sova blurts out "You've never had a spicegourd pie?" She reaches into the fridge and pulls out a large spicegourd, setting it on the counter.

"Oh, you mean a  _ pumpkin _ pie," Taz says.

Sova snickers quietly. "That's a weird way to call it… but I guess it doesn't matter what it's called. 'A pie by any other name would taste as sweet,' right?"

Taz stares at her for a moment, then chuckles amicably. "Whatever you say, theater kid." 

The three of them get to their respective tasks, Albion helping Taz to cut up and bake the spicegourd and Sova starting to roll out the pie crust. Sova's kitchen is quickly filled with the smell of ginger and nutmeg, and even though it's still freezing cold, she starts to feel just a little bit warmer.

When the spicegourd is finished baking, the next step is to mash it. Sova offers Taz the masher, which she hesitantly accepts. “You sure you want me to do this part?”, Taz asks. “Last time I tried cooking something like this, I made a bit of a mess…”

“Go for it!”, Sova says with a smile.

Taz shrugs and starts pulverizing the pieces of gourd - she starts slowly, but she starts to get a strange look in her eyes, and keeps mashing until spicegourd paste starts to splatter all over the place. Albion quickly puts a hand on her shoulder, snapping Taz out of her trance. The purpleblood sighs, shaking her head with a mixture of shame and frustration. “Sorry,” she mumbles, holding up the masher - now bent and mangled beyond recognition. “I… got carried away.” 

Albion pats her moirail on the shoulder (Taz is so much taller than her that she has to reach up fairly far to accomplish this) and says, “It’s okay, Taz. Don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah,” Sova chimes in with a smile. “At least there’s no lumps in it anymore!”

Taz smiles a bit, wiping a bit of spicegourd paste off her chin. “Okay… let’s get this cleaned up and finish the pie.”

A few minutes later, the pie’s in the oven, the kitchen is clean, and the three of them have nothing to do for the next 45 minutes but watch the only palatable thing on TV: a terrible rerun episode of  _ Two and a Half Trolls _ that all of them have seen at least three times. They all pile onto Sova’s couch (it squeaks a little under their weight, but thankfully doesn’t fall apart), with Albion sitting in the middle of the three. Despite her two sweaters (plus a heavy quilt and Albion’s arm around her), Sova is, somehow, still shivering. Taz notices after a little while - in a surprisingly gentle voice, she asks “Hey… you wanna sit in the middle? You look kinda cold.” Sova doesn’t hesitate to say yes - before long, sitting between the two of them and laughing at the same corny jokes she’s heard countless times, she feels warm for the first time that night.

When the timer for the pie finally chimes, Albion gets up and takes it out of the oven for Taz and Sova to see - it’s a little lopsided, sure, but it still looks delicious and smells like home. They end up eating it right then, burning their tongues on slightly-too-hot pie, but still talking and laughing long into the night.


End file.
